The whole world was on the horizon,
The river Teesta down below,
Trickling and meandering to its long awaited destination.
Undergoing the steep hilly shadow.
Birds were chirping to an old familiar song.
Alike the cheerful music boxes in the tree.
Wind whistling through the dead trees along
Alike waves shattering upon the shore in wee.
Every region was white;
The raven was accustomed to sing.
White was the ravine;
From the assault of the wind trees but was on swing.
Alike cleanliness just after a long rainfall amidst of allspice.
Spring flowers smell strong in deep owe,
Alike I’m lying on a bed of Paradise.